


Benign Tuesdays

by dumpy_dimples



Category: Original Work, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Song Lyrics, Songfic, mild swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7172666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumpy_dimples/pseuds/dumpy_dimples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fics based off songs; each fic as long as its respective song, and the inspiration gleaned from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wait for Me - Kings of Leon

 

* * *

 

  _'I saw the surprise; the look in your eyes'_

 

"Quin!" Tate yelled, flat out sprinting in his direction. Quinton turned, spinning on his heel, to look back. He felt the soil give away under his right foot, and suddenly he was falling through the air, high winds hitting him from every direction---coming up to meet him, wrapping him up in its sharp embrace. And then; nothing. He guessed he'd misjudged how close to the edge he was.

 

_`Wait for me, wait for me´_


	2. Thinking of You - Katy Perry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Him/He = Derek  
> The Other = Quin

_`Comparisons are easily done once you've had a taste of perfection´_

 

Tate knew it was wrong, and really unfair; but he couldn't help it, especially not at times like this. Times where a single word could bring back every memory and it hurt and he just wanted to curl up and cry. But he couldn't because He'd come home and He wouldn't understand why Tate wasn't okay, and Tate couldn't---wouldn't be able to---explain why. It was then that he'd start.

Thinking about how He was so much taller and more muscled than The Other, how he actually really hated the height difference; how The Other would always be at least half undressed by the time he actually got to the apartment because he had hated his office job and could never wait to take off his suit.

Smiling wistfully at how The Other could read him perfectly, how The Other would cock his head slightly and instantly know Tate needed something, know what---and where it---had gone wrong, whereas He wouldn't know what was going on in Tate's mind if Tate told him.

With those few thoughts, everything came rushing back: The Other's dimpled grin, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes when he smiled, his innocence, the way Tate could map The Other's freckles like constilations.

But then He would bring Tate back with a touch of his rough hands and gentle smile---he never grinned, hardly smiled---and Tate would sigh inwardly, reserved. Tate would give a small smile back, pressing a kiss to His lips before heading to kitchen, unable to stop himself from thinking of The Other's bottle green eyes in comparison to His plain brown ones.

And Tate had to make himself stop, because it wasn't fair of him to compare them; Derek was good to him. Quin had been a foreign entity, a conundrum; one that Tate would never completely solve. Tate shook his head and smiled to himself at the thought of going to the cemetery on Friday.

 

_`Cause when I'm with Him, I am thinking of You´_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this one, I wanted Tate to be so hurt, so broken that he couldn't think of Quin by name. By the way, Quin died.


	3. I Will Be Blessed - Ben Howard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly dialogue.

_`Oh my ghost came by, said who do you love the most, who you wanna call before you die´_

 

_A crackle, then a click._

"Hello?"

Nyles exhaled and ran a hand over his scalp, missing his hair. It was a ridiculous thing to think about at the moment, considering---

"Hello? Are you there? The connection is crap, can you hear me?"

"Uh, yeah. Hi, sorry."

"Hey, Ny. How're you?"

"Good. What's up?"

"Not much, headin' to you."

"What? No, don't" Nyles put a hand to his chest and fixes his eyes to a point on the ceiling, staring hard as he tried to calm his breathing. When that didn't work, he squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the phone to his abdomen so that his eratic breathing couldn't be heard on the other end.

As near to calm as he was going to get, Nyles put the phone back against his ear, eyes still shut tight.

"---yles! Nyles!"

"Yeah, here."

"Dude, what's going on? Don't what?"

 

"Come. Don't, don't come. Don't come here."

"Why? Are you---"

"No. Nope. No."

"Then why---"

"Cause I won't be. . . _around_. When you get here."

"Oh, they're moving you?"

"No."

"Then what. . . Nyles?"

"Yeah?"

"Nyles, why did you call me?"

Nyles couldn't speak, his throat was constructing.

"You knew I was coming to see you, so why would you call before."

It wasn't a question, they both knew the answer.

Nyles licked his lips. "I, uh, just wanted to say---"

"Oh my god."

"---we've been through so much---"

"Nyles."

"---not all of it good---"

"Stop."

"---a lot of it bad---"

"Please."

"---but I loved every second of it---"

"NYLES."

The silence was stifling and slightly comforting, giving that it provided a barrier for words unsaid; they both wanted them to stay unsaid, but Nyles knew he had to make a move.

"Kyle, I'm sorry. I love you. So much, it physically hurts. Especially now. But, then again, it might be the other thing."

"Don't joke about this."

"Sorry."

"Stop, stop apologizing; it isn't your fault. Any of it. I just--- Can't you. . .?"

"No. Sorry. I can feel myself slipping."

"You've been holding on all this time, haven't you?"

Kyle received a breathy affirmation in response, and pinched the bridge of his nose to aid his attempts at staying his tears.

"I, I just didn't want it to be a surprise. I didn't want you to come and. . ."

"So, what, you thought telling me would change that?" Kyle demanded bitterly.

"No. I just want to blunt the hurt."

Kyle laughed humorlessly, sharp and a little bit manic. "Did you call anyone else?"

A pause.

"No."

"Why me?"

"I know how bad you get."

He held his breath, waiting for the explosion. Kyle didn't disappoint.

"How bad I get?! What the hell is that---"

"I wanted to give a you a chance to say goodbye!"

Kyle stopped speaking. Heart pounding in his chest, he pulled over in some random parking lot, turning off the jeep and pulling the key out of the ignition.

"I," a shaky breath. "I wanted to say goodbye to you without you actually being here. I don't want you to watch me go."

"Fuck. I feel like shit. I've just been getting angry at you this whole time and you've just been trying to make it easier for me."

"It's okay. Just. . .remember what I told you." Nyles response was so breathy, it was practically an exhale.

"Sure, but what---" the dial cut Kyle off. He dialed Nyles' number once, twice, continuously. He stopped counting after the fifth time and stopped calling about an hour after. Kyle waited for the tears to subside before he attempted to drive again, the realisation that Nyles would never answer his calls again sitting heavy on his chest.

 

_'Oh, if you're there when the world comes to gather me in, oh, if you're there; I will be blessed'_


	4. Only Love - Ben Howard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it got so bad they thought it'd be better to just end it, but neither of them wanted to let go.

_`Watch me fall apart, watch me fall apart´_

 

Wyatt whipped away, started to walk, but Ig gripped his arm and yanked. Wyatt spun back around and slammed, literally slammed, into the other male's chest. Chests heaving, silence settled on them like dust, different from the shouting and animosity a minute ago.

Wyatt looked up to find Ig looking down at him, cerulean eyes reflecting the blaze of his whisky ones. Ig sank to the ground, folding his legs and pulling him into his lap.

They could feel themselves disintegrating, breaking away from who they were, were supposed to be, mere spectators that could take no part.

Theirs was a dangerous dance, violent; no less fitting considering theirs was a violent love, selfish in its own right.

 

_`Darling you're with me forever and always´_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While listening to the song, I envisioned a pair of ballet dancers dancing vigorously to the song, therefore stemmed my interpretation.


	5. The Love Club - Lorde

_`I'm in a clique, but I want out; it's not the same as when I was punched´_

 

Sometimes---just now and then, when he lay in his bed at night, bruised and battered; or when he was running for his life and the only thing keeping him going, despite the fact that he felt ready to cough up a lung, were the images of the eviscerated husks of flesh that used to be friends; family---Stiles would wish he'd never known Scott, wish they weren't friends, wish he'd been smart enough to get out at the beginning of it; never been a part of any of it. Sometimes he blamed Scott, point blank. S--- most times he blamed himself, too.

Sometimes.

But then, he'd snap back, let the guilt wash over him because keeping it in, trapped, was not good. Terrible, in fact; self-deprecating. He had experience; he knew.

Then, then he'd think of all they'd lost and all they'd gained; and he knew he wouldn't trade it. Hell, he'd go back and do it all again, if he could.

They were his family: the dead; the living; the ones who were simply gone.

He'd learned so much. And when Malia climbed through his window and lay beside him with a hand curled around him, as he drifted off he would wonder why he ever felt regret to begin with.

 

_`Be a part of the love club; everything will glow for you´_


	6. Bones - Ben Howard

_`And you laugh like you've never been lonely´_

 

Love was a bitch, and a perfect one at that. It never gave you what you wanted---or, at least, thought you wanted. It gave you what you needed, even if you didn't know it yourself. If your type was muscular and athletic, you got a string bean who couldn't lift five pounds. That was just the way it worked; so Isaac guessed he shouldn't have been too surprised at the outcome of his run-in with the entity. He'd wanted fun, stability, support---the usual---but instead he had ended up with a broken boy; and, in the end, he didn't mind much.

Stiles was a thin, nervous wreck of a human. Isaac couldn't call him a person; he was too far gone. Stiles was too fragile, too broken for someone so young. Trust issues abound with more masks than a costume shop, Stiles was a brick wall, but---for a reason he would never be able to identify--Isaac put in the time and effort to chip him away one flake at a time.

After all, his history wasn't squeaky clean either.

Isaac would never be sure when it began; it happened suddenly, but when Stiles decided to return the favor, he didn't half-ass it. He loved hard and he did it with all of him, all that he was.

With his mind and with all of his body, Stiles loved Isaac desperately, like he expected him to finally realize how messed up he was and leave; like, because of that expectation, he shouldn't get too attached, but he couldn't help it.

Stiles was playing a game of push and pull, trying to catch him out. He didn't realize Isaac wasn't participating; he stood to the side, firm, a constant, waiting for Stiles to realize he fully understood what he was trying to sign up for.

When Stiles did realize, he felt stupid---to state it plainly---and Isaac just laughed, kissing the incredulous look off of his face.

That he willingly came and stayed would never cease to amaze Stiles. But he accepted Stiles for who was: spastic; sarcastic; garrulous, maybe; and if broken was somewhere on that list of what made Stiles Stiles. . .well, he accepted that, too.

 

_`And you love like you've always been lonely. That's alright, honey; that's alright with me´_


End file.
